


One Last Try

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, But Sam Knows What He's Doing, Dark Dean Winchester, Drugged Sam Winchester, First Time, Ice Play, Impact Play, It Might Look Like Non-con, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Sensation Play, Top Dean Winchester, like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28337721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: Sam really should have seen it coming. Dean would have been disappointed if he wasn't sure there was a lot more to Sam's midnight assignation than Dean had first assumed. Sometimes, it's hard to tell who is playing who.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42
Collections: SPN J2 Xmas Exchange





	One Last Try

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlindSwandive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindSwandive/gifts).



Yay! I figured out what was keeping me from posting - finally!!!! After over a month!

I didn't make it quite in time, but I finally got it all worked out, so my apologies to Blindswandive for getting your gift to you late!

I kind of picked into your likes and comments about "brothers who are dangerously codependent, people who are hungry or desperate for one another", them "going semi-dark for one another or for want of one another" and the boys legendary and utter lack of communication.

I really hope you like it <3

**One Last Try**

To be fair, Sam should have known it would go down like this. He knew Dean was hyper-focused on him at all times - every one of his cells locked into Sam’s anytime he was anywhere nearby. Yeah, he should have known better, but he either didn’t or felt like playing with fire.

Either way, he’d learn tonight.

When Sam made it back to their room, Dean was waiting for him, barely visible in the faint flicker of the hotel sign and the almost burned out embers on the end of his joint.

“Hey, Dean. What are you doing up?”

Dean’s only reply was the snick of his lighter, the small flame illuminating his face as he relit his blunt.

“Dean?”

“Was she worth it?”

The frown on Sam’s face cleared. He could continue to play dumb or he could drop the charade. He chose the latter. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Go shower.”

Sam did.

When he stepped out of the shower, Dean was ready for him. Sam felt a tiny sting and burn then he was falling toward the filthy motel carpet. He wasn’t worried though, Dean would never let him hit the ground.

When he came to, he was facedown and bound to the headboard, his feet tied tight and wide open, a soft rope running from one ankle then under the bed to the other. Dean was a solid, heavy weight beside him.

Sam turned his head to face Dean, not speaking.

Dean struck his lighter, staring at the flame for a moment, before running it over the back of Sam’s leg. The stench of burning hair lingered in the air. Sam grunted and squirmed under the pain and heat but never said a word.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Dean asked. “It’s going to make a difference in what happens here.”

“Yes,” Sam breathed.

Dean nods, then stood, coming back to the bed a moment later with a flogger and some rubbing alcohol. “Let’s get you clean.”

Dean laid stripes across Sam’s back, avoiding his bunched up shoulders regretfully but paying close attention to his vulnerable sides. When he was satisfied, he moved to Sam’s ass and legs. Sam grunted and groaned but never screamed, no matter how much Dean leaned into the swing. Dean approved, but it wasn’t what he was after right then.

When he was done, he reached for the rubbing alcohol, punching a hole in the center of the foil protecting the bottle and letting it run over Sam’s skin. It wasn’t long until the harsh low tones of Sam’s screams filled the room. Dean was pleased.

He rested a hand on a particularly red patch on Sam’s skin. “Now or later?” he asked.

“Now!” Sam said through gritted teeth.

Dean continued to watch him for a few more minutes - the way his skin was pebbled from pain and the AC, the heaving of his back and the harsh breaths he was trying so desperately to control. Without warning, he discreetly added some lube to his fingers and plunged both thumbs into Sam who jolted and groaned.

Dean worked quickly and efficiently, stretching Sam’s hole and spreading lube as he went. A few seconds to slick up, and he was bullying his way inside the baby brother like he’d wanted to for years. Sam cried out and was silent no more.

Neither spoke much - outside of curses and muttered words it was hard to hear - nothing clear but their names dangling like spit from the brothers’ mouths. Dean came abruptly, filling his brother and grinding against his abused backside as he did it.

Sam cried out when Dean pulled out and stood up, and could only listen as he redressed and lit another blunt. Ice rattled as Dean made himself a drink. After a pause, there was the sound of more ice.

Dean stood over Sam for a moment, Sam turned the other way and both silent. Sam caught his breath when he felt the idle slide of a ice cube over his torn and bruised ass cheek. He shivered when the melting ice dripped over his side and down to his hole.

Dean nudged the fragment directly onto Sam’s hole and watched it melt as Sam shifted. The next cube found it’s way onto Sam’s hole as well and then, when Sam was starting to get numb, into it. He screamed instinctively then fought to remain still and silent as Dean pushed cube after cube into him. His cock wilted and he did his best not to clench around the cubes.

Dean stood there until he was sure they’d all had time to melt.

What surprised Sam the most - but really shouldn’t have, he guessed - was the persistent cold. Even after Dean had untied him and rolled him to his side, holding his ass open and watching as the water poured onto the towels below. Even many minutes later, he could still feel the cold in his guts.

Dean left him like that - going to the bathroom and washing his hands and his cock.

Sam stayed where he was, bone tired and frustrated as much as he was sated and content. He floated in a haze of need and want and the remnants of whatever drug Dean had injected him with.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Dean finally asked.

“When have we ever?” was Sam’s croaked reply.

“I can’t let you go,” Dean said, his voice full of threat and apology. “Not again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“How long?”

“Take your pick.”

“What?”

“I have no idea when it became something more. Even less when it became everything. So take your pick.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Dean repeated, his voice thin and full of anguish.

“Too much risk if I was wrong.”

“So why now?”

“She asked me what I wanted.”

Dean stayed silent.

“I realized I could never tell her the truth - that what I wanted was …more. More pain, more sex, more screaming, more everything.”

“Then why did you go with her?”

“She was the last chance I’d ever have.”

“Yes, she was, little brother. I would burn this world to the ground with us in it to keep you by my side.”

Sam could feel Dean trailing his fingers over the still forming wounds on his body. Sam’s cock was hard again. He needed to come. He needed water and his shoulders were killing him. Pain flooded his whole body and throbbed in time to his heart.

Dean had gone silent but for the snick of his lighter and his breath.

As the sun crept higher in the sky, Sam closed his eyes and slept.


End file.
